


Not Quite Super

by micehell



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Humor, M/M, OOC (hell outright character assasination), PWP, silliness!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-30
Updated: 2006-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We are not, and I repeat not, going to call ourselves Jediman and Padawanboy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Super

**Author's Note:**

> Written because I'd been especially cruel to Obi-Wan with my last story ( _Please_ ), so here's me making it up to him. ;) Part of the inspiration is a half-remembered (and most likely wrongly-remembered, as it seems more likely it went the other way ;) bit of an interview where Ewan McGregor said that Liam Neeson had kept making lightsaber sounds when they were practicing the fight scenes for EP1. From there, the immediate leap to Batman episodes was inevitable, and things just went downhill from there.

"Qui-Gon, I've trained with you for years, working towards the day when I would fight by your side to bring down those who would hurt Coruscant or harm its citizens. I've done everything you've asked of me, even things I didn't believe were strictly necessary - like the nude volleyball practices - and never once in all that time have I outright refused you anything. So that just shows you how serious I am about the fact that we are not, and I repeat not, going to call ourselves Jediman and Padawanboy."

His bottom lip jutted out a little and there was a hint of a tremble in it when Qui-Gon asked, "Please?"

"No. And please, I haven't fallen for that fake pout in years."

Qui-Gon pulled his lip back in, glaring. "Okay, okay." His expression brightened as a new idea occurred to him. "How about the Jedi-namic Duo?"

"We're trying to fight crime, not trying to incite people to violence. Or nausea, for that matter."

Undeterred by Obi-Wan's logic, Qui-Gon said, "Midichlorian-Men. Oooh, or just M-Men! No one will know what it means. We'll be considered mysterious."

Obi-Wan hit him on the side of the head. "It's a mystery to me how someone so intelligent, someone who's the head of The Jedi Order Inc, the largest not-for-profit organization in the world, someone so prominent in Coruscant's business and political circles, someone who charms almost everyone he meets with his smooth, suave manner, can be such an incredible dork. And no to either of them."

Rubbing his head, Qui-Gon thought some more. "How about... how about Batman and Robin?"

"For the last time, I'm not wearing the fucking elf boots. Get over it."

The lip was jutting out again, and Qui-Gon's eyes were doing that kicked puppy thing that Obi-Wan could never seem to hold firm against.

Of course, Obi-Wan thought, it might be worth it to wear the boots if he could get Qui-Gon to wear his cape again. That had been... nice. "Okay, I'll wear them for you later. But we're not calling ourselves Batman and Robin. In fact we're not calling ourselves anything besides Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, considering that both of us are well known in Coruscant, and the secret identity thing is kind of a bust when anyone who sees you knows exactly who you are. Even if we wore disguises - which we're not, so don't start that up again - it's not as if Police Commissioner Windu hasn't been consulting with you for years, so it would still be pretty apparent who was helping him out now."

"But _all_ the superheroes use special names. We'd be laughed at if we didn't."

Obi-Wan shook his head, incredulous. He was also a little tired of the argument and hoping they could get to the part of the evening that involved nakedness and Qui-Gon's cape without any more pointless distractions. "You're afraid of being laughed at... and yet you want to call yourself _Jediman_? Now that's just sad. And please, no more suggestions, I've heard quite enough. What you really need to ask yourself is this: which do you want more, a ridiculous 'superhero' name, or me in nothing but the elf boots? Let me know when you decide."

With that he left, knowing it wouldn't take long for Qui-Gon to follow. It would be worth it to wear the boots, even though the felt was kind of itchy, if it would distract Qui-Gon from trying to come up with names that would strike ridicule and mirth in the hearts of their enemies.

Well, and the cape. The cape would definitely be worth a little itching.

::::::::::

Moonlight splashed over Obi-Wan's skin, clothing him in light, the only thing he wore besides the elf boots and a smile.

Kneeling in front of him like a supplicant, Qui-Gon looked up at him, taking in the beautiful lines of his body, of his face, and thought that he could worship at this altar forever.

Where Obi-Wan was in light, Qui-Gon was in the shadows, the inky folds of his cape puddling around him. He'd done it for effect, and considering the glazed look in Obi-Wan's eye, it had been worth the effort. Even beyond Obi-Wan's reaction to it, he liked the cape, liked the way the smooth cloth slid along his skin, like a hand running over the bare flesh. He shivered with the sensation, heightened all the more by the feel of Obi-Wan's eyes on him, another touch, and he hardened further under their combined assault.

There was a drop of precum on Obi-Wan's cock, pearlescent in the moonlight, and Qui-Gon lapped at it, his tongue tasting salt and need and Obi-Wan.

Fingers burrowing into the folds of the cloak, Obi-Wan moaned his approval, but Qui-Gon pulled back, wanting this to last. Obi-Wan apparently didn't share _that_ desire, cupping one hand behind Qui-Gon's head, pulling him closer again, and closer still, his cock seeming to strain towards Qui-Gon's waiting lips. Closer still, and it wasn't as if Qui-Gon didn't want to have that hard length sliding into his mouth and-

He reared back with a cry of surprise and irritation. Of all the times for this to happen. But, still, it had been bound to occur sooner or later. Ignoring Obi-Wan's hoarse "Fuck," he sprang to his feet, saying, "No time for this now, the Commissioner's calling us!"

Obi-Wan always liked to claim that he didn't whine, which was a blatant lie, and it was especially untrue now as he asked, "What are you talking about? Not only would I have heard it if he called, but since I took the comm off the hook, he wouldn't have been able to anyway."

Qui-Gon gave him a disapproving look. He'd talked to Obi-Wan about that before. But he didn't say anything, just pointed to Obi-Wan's stomach. Moonlight still splashed across the bare skin, but it was brighter, and it formed the rough shape of a saber. "See there, that's the Jedi-signal that Mace and I worked out so that he could reach me even when you... that is, even if the comms were down. Come now, Obi-Wan, duty calls."

Then he was off, his cape whipping behind him. He knew the flare of dark material looked dramatic and impressive and he wished he could talk Obi-Wan into letting him wear it when they were out fighting crime, but he didn't think now was the time to broach the subject, especially not considering the muttering he could still hear from behind him. As his own cock wasn't happy with the situation he could somewhat sympathize with the complaints, but the soft thud on the back of his head - from what felt suspiciously like an elf boot - was just uncalled for. After all, duty came first.

He just hoped that when this was all over, if he begged hard enough, he could talk Obi-Wan back into the boots.

::::::::::

Yoda snorted to himself as Jinn smiled at Windu, having bought the "Sorry, it was an accident" explanation without even a hint of suspicion. Yoda sometimes wondered how a man as smart and powerful as Jinn was could be such a clueless dork. Of course, he also wondered how a man as smart and powerful as Windu was could be such a letch. It was apparently his fate to wonder.

It certainly wasn't Yoda's fate to be in charge of anything. Oh, no, that would be asking too much for the man who had managed to deduce where Palpatine and Dooku's secret base was, worked out the best way to enter the base without being seen and thereby end the reign of the most notorious set of criminals Coruscant had ever seen, all without any losses on the side of the police. And that had all been before lunch, too.

If only he was as tall as Jinn, or even as tall as Jinn when he'd been a small child, Yoda would be the one who was running things. Instead, he was ignored as usual, stuck behind Kenobi, having to listen to Jinn and Windu ignore his sound strategy in favor of a frontal assault consisting of Jinn and Kenobi alone. They would keep the large team of highly trained, well-armed policeman in reserve because... well, because they were dumber than they looked, apparently.

Kenobi was the only one of them showing any sense. He argued that Palpatine and Dooku would be expecting them, and that as good as he and Jinn were, they couldn't take on all of Palpatine’s troopers just by themselves. Yoda began to have some hopes that his plan could be salvaged, but then Jinn whispered something to Kenobi, which even Yoda's large ears (just one, or rather two, more reasons that he wasn't the Commissioner instead of Windu) had problems hearing. He caught something about finishing quickly, no more interruptions, and elf boots, but that was all.

It was apparently enough to get Kenobi to cave, though, and all of Yoda's hard work was as ignored as he was as the others leaned over the maps - that he'd printed up - their fingers tracing the path that would lead to their, in his opinion, well-deserved doom.

From his ass-high vantage point right behind Kenobi, Yoda amused himself with what was to hand, so to speak. Making the best of his lot, he gave a firm squeeze to that delectable vantage point, murmuring an insincere apology along with the "Entirely an accident" excuse he'd picked up from Windu. As much of an idiot as the Commissioner was, he sometimes really did have good ideas.

::::::::::

Dac had only been one of Palpatine's troopers for a month now, but he'd heard all about the great Qui-Gon Jinn, and he was more than a little nervous when the ebb and flow of the fight left him facing said great man alone. Dac was no slouch in the fighting department, but still, alone against a master of the art? He could only hope his fellow troopers managed to overcome Kenobi quickly or he was in real trouble.

Squaring his shoulders, he took a fighting stance in front of Jinn, arms up and ready for the attack. Jinn came swinging in at him, his own arms moving with such blinding speed that Dac had a hard time countering. Still, he might have done better if he weren't so distracted by-

"Whoosh! Bang! Slap! Kick!"

the sound effects that Jinn kept making. Dac shook his head, trying to concentrate, needing to hold on until the others could come and help him. He launched an offensive of his own, trying to force Jinn back towards the knot of fighting behind him, and then-

"Biff! Smack! Jump! Slam!"

the slam caught Dac up against his head, making it spin in lazy circles. Because of the dizziness, he wasn't sure he actually heard Kenobi say, "Will you stop with the stupid noises and give me a hand already?" but he figured he actually had when Jinn moved off to help his partner, who was nearly buried under a mountain of troopers.

Eventually the sheer weight of numbers won the fight for the troopers, and Dac could only be thankful, his head pounding and his sight blurring at the edges, that he didn't have to face Jinn again, who was fully as dangerous as Palpatine had said, even if he was-

"Head butt! Kick! Resist! Scratch!"

crazy as a loon.

Still struggling hard against the troopers who were tying him up, Kenobi accidentally kicked Jinn in the stomach, finally bringing an end to any sounds he was making besides a startled "Oof!" It could have been an accident, but Dac wouldn't have bet on it, and he didn't tie Kenobi's arms as tightly as he probably should have as a thank you for stopping the noise.

Though when they finished suspending the two heroes above the rancor pit, everything just as Palpatine and Dooku had instructed, Dac could have sworn he heard a "Swing" coming from behind the gag.

::::::::::

His troopers had performed well, bringing down his two foes with little effort. Little effort for Palpatine, anyway. They might have gotten carried away with the rope, though, because there certainly was a lot of it wrapped around the two men.

It was tied fairly intricately, too, holding them in what could be viewed as - if you were so inclined that way, though Palpatine most certainly wasn't - a very sexy manner, their legs spread wide, their bodies held taut... helpless... just waiting for someone to... but no. Why would his troopers, already on their way to the bank that would become the scene of Palpatine's greatest crime, bother to tie them up for a purpose they wouldn't be around to capitalize on?

When Dooku moved closer to the pair, his eyes intent, his tongue licking hungrily along his bottom lip, Palpatine began to suspect that the troopers might have had some instructions besides his own.

Dooku turned to look at him, trying for casual, but failing miserably. "Perhaps..."

Knowing where this was heading, and having neither the time nor the patience to deal with it, Palpatine cut him off before he could say anything further. "No."

Dooku was irritated, but trying to hide it. It showed up plainly in his whine, though. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

He didn't roll his eyes, because criminal masterminds didn't do that, even if they were strongly tempted, but Palpatine did wind up snorting. "It hardly takes a mind reader to interpret the look in your eyes. And this attempt to win the Boy Scout Bondage badge is hardly subtle, either."

Dooku looked at Jinn and Kenobi for a moment before turning back to Palpatine, his lower lip protruding, shining and slick with a thin film of saliva, and damn him, Dooku knew how Palpatine liked that, so this was a blatant attempt to win the argument via seduction. "Please?"

Palpatine watched that lip, catching his nemeses' useless struggles at the edge of his vision, and he could feel his resolve slipping. But, no, best to leave Jinn and Kenobi to the rancors and get on with being an evil mastermind. "No."

Obviously sensing his master's wavering resolve, Dooku smiled slyly. "You're just jealous because I want to play with _them_."

"No," was the reply, but there was a hint of pique in it. After all, wasn't he the one that had made Dooku look like that just this morning? Twice?

Dooku's smile grew wider, and his voice was almost a whisper, dark and sultry and hinting of things that his master just might not know yet but that he'd love to teach him. It thrilled Palpatine even more than the, "We could share. There are two of them, after all."

Palpatine hesitated, his eyes drawn to where Jinn and Kenobi were caught in the web of ropes. Their chests were thrust out, the harsh pull of the rope on their arms holding them in that position. Their legs were splayed wide, tied to long, thick poles by even more rope. The blindfolds and the wide rubber gags kept him from seeing or hearing their fear, but the quick rise and fall of those chests, the minute tremble in their muscles called to him all the same.

Still, they really didn't have time for this. No time for running his hands over flesh that trembled and tried to draw away from his touch, but was helpless to do so. No time to dig his hands into hard muscles, grip thin hips, plunge... no, he really shouldn't. He tried to keep his voice as firm as his cock, but it got away from him a bit. "Noooo."

The moan in his denial just encouraged Dooku to run his hand down Jinn's leg, laughing when the man’s struggles left him swinging further out over the rancor pit.

Jinn, who was so irritatingly clever, always a thorn in Palpatine's side, so handsome and strong, and yet so helpless now. Palpatine licked his own lips then, calculating how much time they had. If they hurried - and as hard as he was, Palpatine knew he wouldn't be able to prolong it anyway - they might have time for this. It was irresponsible of him, and he really shouldn't, but still. "Well..."

Palpatine had just started stroking his own shaking hand over one of Jinn's legs when the alarm went off. "Fuck! The police are here. Come along, Dooku, we have nefarious schemes to put into action and a city to conquer. We'll just have to leave Jinn and Kenobi to the rancors as I'd originally planned."

It was a waste, really, all that sweet flesh going to the rancors, but he didn't have time to play with the police and that fucking killjoy Windu. He made a note to himself to kill them all later for interrupting his fun, and then left, a slight limp to his walk the only thing that outwardly showed his lack of composure... well, that and the thing causing the limp.

It was all Dooku's fault for getting him wound up when they didn't have the time for it, and he would have to make sure the man paid later. Palpatine smiled to himself, remembering what Jinn and Kenobi had looked like with all that rope around them.

He snapped his fingers for Dooku to follow, wondering how much rope they had at the house.

::::::::::

Dooku gave one last sorrowful look at the way Kenobi's pants hugged his ass when his legs were spread that far, then he turned to follow his master. At least the whole thing hadn't been a total loss, since now he knew that Palpatine apparently shared some of his darker kinks. Perhaps later he could talk him into a little Boy Scout Bondage of their own.

He thought about cutting the rope holding Jinn and Kenobi over the pit, sending them plunging to a death by rancor, but decided against it. If the rancors got them, it was all to the good, but if the police did manage to save them, well, there was always next time to look forward to. He'd always wanted to try his hand at Nawa Shibari. It was just a win-win situation all the way around.

Dooku turned to follow Palpatine, limping slightly and wondering how much rope they had at the house.

::::::::::

Mace hadn't held out much hope of finding Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan in time. Maybe he should have listened to that creep Yoda after all. The warren of tunnels and rooms that made up Palpatine's secret base was far too extensive for even the large number of men he'd brought to search it effectively. They'd had to split up as it was, and though he'd given orders for recon only, no confrontations, he hadn't been quite sanguine about that either.

So it came as a surprise to him that not more than ten minutes after starting his search, he found what he was looking for. Palpatine and Dooku appeared to be long gone, but Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were still alive, if the wriggling that both of them were doing was anything to judge by.

Wriggling and writhing, held fast by what looked to be yards of rope. Even as he watched, Qui-Gon pulled against the rope holding him suspended over a pit, causing his body to swing jerkily from side to side and causing his hips to flex out as he fought the pole holding his legs spread wide.

Spread wide and wriggling and writhing, and Mace could see that Qui-Gon obviously dressed to the left and probably left Obi-Wan sore but happy after he got through pounding into him. Pounding into that very delectable ass, which was showing to advantage with the way the cloth of Obi-Wan's leggings, stretched to its limits by the way he was bound, clung to it.

Obviously Palpatine and Dooku had had some nefarious purpose for stringing them up over a pit, which Mace could only shudder at, his stomach, and other parts of him, tightening up as his mind provided him image after image of the shame and degradation the evil men would have subjected them to. Thank goodness he'd gotten there in time.

Mace's face was flushed with his concern, his breath coming in quick pants in his horror, and he had to adjust himself several times before he was able to walk the rest of the way to the pit. Once there, he set about getting the two men free.

With the way the two of them were suspended, the way their bodies were swinging over the pit, he had no choice but to grab at any handy bit of body he could reach, and if he wound up groping... that is touching them in places he really shouldn't, well that was just him trying to get them to safety after all, and who could object to that?

Certainly not Obi-Wan, who could only make faint, unintelligible grunts as Mace got to feel first hand just how tight that ass was. He smiled to himself. Sometimes he really loved being a public servant and coming to the aid of others.

Leaning out over the pit to get a firmer grip on the pole holding those strong, lean legs apart, Mace pulled Obi-Wan closer, licking his lips in his concern and horror. He really did love this job.

::::::::::

"I'm telling you he was groping me."

"Commissioner Windu would never have done that. He was a good man and a fine police officer."

"Yes, I'm sure his putting his hand down my trousers and copping a feel was all in the name of duty."

Doubt assailed Qui-Gon for a moment and he fingered a fading bruise he had on his ass. He'd believed Mace when he'd said it was just an accident. Maybe... but no. He refused to consider it, especially since it was pretty much a moot point now. "Commissioner Windu gave up his life to save ours, and we should show proper respect for the dead."

Obi-Wan had his stubborn look on, but he relented under Qui-Gon's stern gaze. "Yes, Qui-Gon. Windu was a fine man and the entire force, nay, the entire city will miss him." Under his breath, he added, "But not his wandering hands, especially since he fell into the rancor pit while feeling me up."

Qui-Gon decided to pretend not to hear the tag end of the statement, because he really didn't feel like getting into an argument right now. Between all the hands that had been all over him, supposedly in the name of rescue, and the sight he'd had of Obi-Wan, rope circling his body like an embrace, his legs wide and open to anything, it was all Qui-Gon could do to keep from jumping his student right here in their car. He was so hard he felt he could pound nails with his cock, and he was looking forward to seeing if he could talk Obi-Wan into maybe trying out a little bondage of their own. As long as it didn't involve Dooku, Palpatine, or rancors, Qui-Gon was certainly open to the idea.

However, for tonight, there was still the matter of the elf boots and his cape. He licked his lips thinking about it.

Remembering what had happened last time they'd tried to play out that scenario, Qui-Gon reminded himself to draw the curtains, just in case Yoda got any ideas about using the Jedi signal. There was, after all, only so much duty a man could take before his balls imploded.

::::::::::

The cloak spilled out over the bed, Qui-Gon at its center, a shock of pale, sweet flesh against deep indigo wings of cloth, spread out as if to carry them away. Obi-Wan knelt over him, his face slack with pleasure as he rose and fell on Qui-Gon's cock, and not even the annoying scratch of felt as his thighs brushed his boots was enough to distract him from his imminent orgasm.

Qui-Gon jacked Obi-Wan's cock fast and hard, the calluses scraping over it, just shy of painful, and all the way into fucking good. Obi-Wan squeezed his own hand around Qui-Gon's, pushing into the sting, slamming back onto the cock that seemed to fill his entire body, his hips jerking between the two sensations, unable to get enough of either.

Qui-Gon braced his feet against the bed, his other hand digging into Obi-Wan's hip, and he rose up to meet Obi-Wan half-way, the smack of their flesh almost covering Obi-Wan's half-strangled cry of pleasure as he flew higher and higher until he burned, tumbling back to earth, to Qui-Gon, in slow, ebbing pulses.

Tired from a long day - and fantastic sex, even if Obi-Wan did have to say it himself - Qui-Gon gave one affectionate if haphazard pat to Obi-Wan's ear and fell asleep. Obi-Wan just shook his head, long used to it. He got them both cleaned up, got the stupid, itchy elf boots off, and then climbed back into the bed, more than a little ready for sleep himself.

Curling around Qui-Gon, he was almost asleep when he heard a mumbled, "Super-Qui and Wonder-Obi." Tired and post-coital, all he could manage was a soft slap to Qui-Gon's ass, strategically close to hand just in case they got a second wind, and said, "Not even if _you_ wear the stupid elf boots."

When he slept, he dreamt of capes and boots and ropes, Qui-Gon, as always, at the center of it, his hero in every way.

/story


End file.
